


A Rest Inside the Storm

by Jaylie



Category: The Crown (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e08 Pride and Joy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaylie/pseuds/Jaylie
Summary: Philip finds Elizabeth in the cabin of her boat as she struggles with dark thoughts about her role as Queen.Takes place in season 1, episode 8 "Pride and Joy"





	A Rest Inside the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first one-shot about the Crown, I hope you'll enjoy it!  
I imagined this OS after watching the amazing episode "Pride and Joy", in which Elizabeth and Philip are clearly going through a difficult moment in their life.  
In this episode, Elizabeth must take an injection because the muscles of her cheeks are overworked - this is a reminder because it is mentioned here.  
I apologise for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue!

She was looking outside through the window of the cabin, trying to concentrate on the sight of the waves in the dead of the night and not on the pain that irradiated the muscles inside her cheeks. Only the yellow lights of the magnificent ship allowed her to see the deep, dark water surrounding them. Even the Queen of England and the Commonwealth felt little when confronted to this wild, rumbling mass. She looked up and gazed at the stars, forcing herself to forget the stressful trip on which she and Philip were embarked, the way her husband looked at her when she showed determination to keep on going, her own doubts about her ability to finish this without getting sick or depressed, her sister brilliantly taking her place back in London. 

Her thought vanished suddenly when her face started to throb again, tearing out of the view of the ocean as she inclined her head and closed her eyes, her fists clenched. 

Breath in, breath out. You’re fine, Elizabeth, you’re fine, you’re fine. 

But even though she waited, the throbbing didn’t stop and she found herself sitting on the floor under the window, her face buried in her knees as the terrible cramps contracted her muscles – she let a muffled groaning out her lips. Breath in, breath out. Oh God let this stop. 

“Elizabeth?”

She startled, looking up at her husband. He was in his nightwear, observing her, frowning. He seemed uncertain of the attitude to adopt. She certainly didn’t mean him to find her in such a state. Even before her own husband, she hated to be vulnerable, disarmed, weak. 

“Are you all right?”

She tried to compose her still painful face.

“Yes, I was just –”

“Admiring the carpet?”

There was no laugh nor smile in his voice. His look was grave, it was too late. She dropped her pathetic try to look decent and considered him, ashamed, the queen on the floor, beaten by her own smile. He couldn’t help but shake his head a little in amazement before getting closer and offering her a hand. She sighed and swallowed as she took it and for a brief instant she beheld how little her hand was in his. He lifted her up but kept his hold on her hand before she could escape. The appearance of Philip had chased the pain away for a few seconds but here it came again. He lowered his face a little to have a better look at her.

“Is it your cheeks again?”

She opened her mouth to reassure him but that slight movement made it all even worse. She closed her eyes again and felt a lump imprisoning her throat, tears threatening to flow. She was anxious, she was discouraged, she was distressed, and she was certainly not all right.

“I –” 

But the first sob came and then she couldn’t stop it.  
He crossed the space that separated them and closed his arms around her like he’d been waiting for the first sign to do this. Among other feelings of pain and self-disappointment, Elizabeth was surprised to feel comfort – true comfort of being held, of having two strong hands gently rubbing her back, of smelling her husband's mix odour of soap and sea. She had so well learned to hide her feelings that she had forgotten how good it was to forget herself – and it almost completely eclipsed her feeling of shame. 

Another wave of contraction burned her cheeks and she pressed her forehead against Philip’s shoulder, gripped his shirt and groaned again to stifle an actual scream. 

“Good God Elizabeth…” he whispered. “Why do you persist in going through this alone?” 

The throbbing slowed down, allowing her to keep on crying because there was nothing else she could do now. She felt Philip’s arm tighten around her and her own hands left his shirt to hide behind his neck; she needed this, she needed to hang on to someone. She needed to hug her husband. Her cheeks were drowned in tears and she was slightly shaking but the lump had gone. She sobbed a little longer and calmed herself down. The pain in her cheeks seemed to have disappeared. She took in another deep breath and lost her grip on his neck. He released her softly, moved slightly back. He looked at her in a way that was half-astonished, half-worried – really worried. 

“We need to stop this tour,” he declared, trying to sound sensitive.

She held his gaze a few seconds, temptation to agree dancing on her tongue, but Elizabeth Regina was always the strongest. She looked up to heaven, wiping the tears off her cheeks.

“We won’t, Philip,” she answered, her voice still fragile from crying. “You know I won’t change my decision. Don’t make it even harder, please.” 

Here again, this look of disapprobation, this look that screamed things at her face, things that he didn’t dare to say out loud. That look was just the reason why she so rarely showed him her weaknesses. He was too radical, too inclined to call foolish whatever was happening, too eager to protect her and to feel that she needed his protection, to stop everything because it was ridiculous. She simply couldn’t let that happen. He had always wanted a normal life, a little wife to take care of, next to whom he might look strong and useful. But she was queen, constantly overshadowing him, and oh she often thought she would rather not. 

“Do you want a pill for the pain? Shouldn’t we call for the doctor?”

His voice interrupted her dark thoughts.

“I’ve taken two pills already – I feel better now anyway.”

It was his turn to sigh, powerless. She could see how much he wanted to say how all of this was stupid, but he managed to refrain himself. 

“I’m sorry that you had to accompany me into this. I know how little you like it,” she added, hoping to end this conversation in peace. Instead, he frowned again. 

“I’m your husband, I don’t want to be waiting at home for my wife to come back from work! Even though, you’re right, I don’t like it a bit and I don’t like to see you crushing your health for this and nod to every demand people make from you. You’re the queen, for God’s sake!”

She felt the tears coming back but fought them firmly this time. She started to feel like a little girl being scolded and she was tired – or rather, completely exhausted.

“Philip, please,” she exhaled, “I don’t want to argue with you right now.”

He looked like he was about to add something but finally gave up. His gaze changed, he was now studying her in another way. She must look terrible with the dark circles under her eyes, her messy hair and pale skin; but he got closer again and took her face into his hands. Elizabeth didn’t move although she was a little dazed. He stared at her deeply and she didn’t look away, attempting to take this opportunity to tell him she loved him through her eyes. But as he lingered, she couldn’t help but let out a little embarrassed laugh. 

“What?” 

He smiled a little sadly. “The other day, you said that your sister would outshine you.”

Her laugh faded and she flushed as she remembered how clearly she had stated her fears and jealousy. Sometimes she thought that Philip would have been happier with Margaret. It would have been a simpler, lighter, funnier life. 

“I don’t know how you can underestimate yourself after everything you’re going through,” he said with a soft voice. 

She raised her eyebrow a little, bewildered. 

“Do you really think that Margaret could bear the quarter of what you bear, Elizabeth?”

She looked away, upset. “That’s not the matter, Philip, she is… You know, she’s… the kind of person everyone wants to talk with, wants to be with, she’s entertaining and playful and… pretty. All these things that attract people.”

“Well, she may attract people, but you inspire respect. And admiration. And… have you seen the people out there in the street? They almost take you for a goddess! They barely know that Margaret exists at all! She may be amusing people back there in London but the rest of the Commonwealth worships you – everyone loves you. Isn’t that enough?”

He was still serious, and she searched his gaze as she asked slowly, detaching every syllable, 

“Everyone?” 

His thumbs caressed the soft skin of her flushed cheeks and he raised his eyebrows as he liked to do when he was flirting. They could hear the waves crashing against the ship and feel the ground slightly pitching, elements trying to distract them from their moment. But none of that they really noticed. Philip leaned towards his wife until their mouths met. Those moments had become rare and Elizabeth delighted in the gentle dance of tongues and lips, shivers running down her spine. His hands landed on her waist and hers found his neck again. They kissed for a moment and then delicately broke apart.  
She bit her lower lips a little and smiled like she was a teenager kissing the boy she had a crush on. Philip smiled at her too and they seemed to have, at least temporarily, made peace. 

“I trust you are all right, now?” he asked in a mischievous voice.

“Well-,” she looked away, her smile widening. Indeed, for the first time since the beginning of the tour, she felt relaxed and quiet.

“Then, your Majesty, all I still have to do is wish you a good night,” he said like he had read her mind, bowing at her playfully.  
He turned to the door and Elizabeth’s smile faded. She definitely didn’t want to sleep alone tonight. 

“Philip,” she called.

He spun around to face her, interrogation on his face.

“Stay, please.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, observing her. Then he went and closed the door of the room to come back to her arms.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

She knew that it was but a small rest inside the storm, the storm not being this tour nor the turmoil in her mind, but their entire relationship. Tomorrow they would argue again and he would hurt her and she would disregard him. Tomorrow they would forget how much love there were between them.

But tomorrow wasn’t there yet, the waves were still dancing half-seen in the dead of the night, and just for this moment, Elizabeth forgot all this and abandoned herself to Philip, trusting that no matter what, they would always find their way back to each other.


End file.
